


Insomnia

by Dain



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Developing Friendships, Gen, Humor, Literal Sleeping Together, Platonic Cuddling, Reveth's characterization was a little bland in the story, Teasing, Touch-Starved, Trouble Sleeping, but whatever. MY CITY NOW, so I'm making one up that will inevitably get jossed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:40:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24432976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dain/pseuds/Dain
Summary: She’s going to kill him.It’s not his fault, so she’ll make it quick. Painless. He won’t know what hit him.But she’s going to kill him.
Relationships: CT-6116 | Kix & Reveth, Referenced Past Jesse & Kix
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Insomnia

She’s going to kill him.  
  
It’s not his fault, so she’ll make it quick. Painless. He won’t know what hit him.  
  
But she’s going to kill him.  
  
She’s tried staring at the ceiling. She’s tried putting her pillow over her head. She’s tried glaring at him. She’s tried turning her back on him. She’s tried counting blurrgs. She’s tried counting breaths. She’s tried going to the fresher and staring blankly at the mirror for twenty minutes. She’s tried closing her eyes and thinking really, really hard about sleeping.  
  
She knows better than to wake him up, as tempting a prospect as it might be. If she startles him out of whatever’s going on in his head he’ll probably try to kill her on pure reflex and then Ithano will _look at her_ for busting up their medic-cum-Clone-Wars-expert, even if it obviously wasn’t her fault. And then, on top of all of that, she’ll probably even feel bad about it. He _is_ crew now, after all.  
  
So all she can do is kill him, she’s decided. Ithano will still _look at her_ , but at least she’ll be running on a decent night’s sleep when he does.  
  
Kix shifts again, pulls on the blanket, and she halfheartedly stifles a groan and tugs it back. Her back is to him, but it doesn’t matter; all night she’s been able to feel every little movement, every twist and turn and violent jerk of his body. She’s pretty sure depriving someone of sleep like this qualifies as torture. She just wants to _rest_.  
  
She tugs at the blanket again, winning back another inch for herself.  
  
Kix moves again and makes a muffled little mumbly whimpery noise that definitely doesn’t sound happy. She rolls over to face him, careful to keep her grip steady on the blanket so he doesn’t rip it away from her, and finds his face all scrunched up and half-smashed into the pillow underneath like he’s trying to burrow into it.  
  
“I’m going to kill you if you don’t let me sleep,” she whispers experimentally. There isn’t a lot of heat behind the threat, which is probably why he ignores it in favor of shifting so that he’s somehow putting even more pressure on the blanket.  
  
So direct death threats aren’t going to work, either. She probably could’ve guessed that, but it was worth a shot.  
  
She tries to turn back on her other side, but before she can do more than readjust her grip on the blanket Kix is practically flinging himself across the bed at her. (Not that there’s a lot of space to cross; it isn’t a very big bed, all things considered.) She startles, for a moment certain that she’s finally woken him up and she’s going to have to kick his ass after all, but instead he just sort of grabs her, tucks himself into her side, mumbles something, and...stills?  
  
She freezes, waiting for a sign that he’s going to punch her or let go of her or start squirming around again, but nothing happens. He’s got his forehead pressed against her flesh-and-blood shoulder and one of his arms curled around her back; after a moment she relaxes, settling back into the mattress, and he doesn’t move an inch.  
  
Maybe she doesn’t have to kill him after all. She closes her eyes and exhales slowly. Everything is quiet and still now, and she can feel the gentle weight of sleep settling in around her.  
  
Thank _fuck_.

* * *

When she wakes up it’s to a much lighter room, sunlight turning the inside of her eyelids red. She could get up, but she’s warm and comfortable and sleepy and since she’s not on the ship she doesn’t have to worry about Quiggold climbing up her ass about sleeping in, so she decides to enjoy it. She yawns, her eyes still closed, and is in the middle of trying to stretch luxuriously when she realizes something’s not quite right.  
  
She cracks an eye open and looks down at Kix where he’s still all snuggled up to her. “Hn,” she says, and falls back to sleep.  
  
The cycle repeats itself a couple of times before she’s awake enough that she remembers the night before. She looks at fast-asleep, very-still Kix contemplatively.  
  
It’s never too early in the morning for a little payback.  
  
“Wakey wakey,” she says in a singsong voice, poking Kix in the forehead with one metal finger. He’s settled enough now that he probably won’t go for her jugular. Probably. “If I have to be awake now, so do you.”  
  
“Gmndngh Jesse,” Kix says.  
  
“Not Jesse,” she says, and pokes him again. “But I’m sure I’m flattered. Come on, get up.”  
  
It takes a couple more pokes, but finally he wakes up - and in spectacular fashion, too, shooting off to the other side of the bed in a half-awake panic. He almost falls off, but manages to steady himself before she can decide if she wants to make a grab for him or not.  
  
“Fuck,” he says blearily. She doesn’t ask him to clarify, because she’s nice like that.  
  
“Fuck _you_ ,” she says merrily, and throws a pillow at him that he absentmindedly bats out of the air. “You kept me up half the night, you asshole. Next time you want a cuddle, just say so.”  
  
“Fuck,” he says again, with a little more feeling this time.  
  
She almost asks who Jesse is, but she bites her tongue. Kix is a good fifty years out of place; even for a baseline human that’s plenty of time with which to lose loved ones. (Especially given everything that happened in those fifty years.) She may be out for revenge, but she isn’t _heartless_.  
  
“You were very cute last night, after you stopped being annoying,” she says. “Like a nuna chick. Very precious.”  
  
He glares at her with all the spite he can muster while his eyes are still glazed over with sleep, and she snickers.  
  
“Maybe a tooka kitten,” she revises. “All soft and cuddly.”  
  
“I know where all the scalpels on the _Martinet_ are,” he says, and she grins. He’s quieter and more soft-spoken than she’d expected, but the longer he’s with them the more she sees of his sharp tongue. He’s going to do just fine.  
  
“I might forgive you someday,” she allows.  
  
His smile isn’t much, but it’s visible, which is something. “I’m looking forward to it,” he says, running fingers through his dark curls. He keeps saying he’s going to shave them off, but so far he hasn’t made good on that particular threat.  
  
She’s not that worried about the scalpels, either.  
  
This, she thinks, is the start of a lasting friendship, and very nearly manages to push him off the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come say hi on [Tumblr](https://moonbittern.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
